June 5, 1944 —
“Tonight is the night of nights.
Tomorrow throughout the whole of our homeland and the Allied world the bells will ring out the tidings that you have arrived, and the invasion for liberation has begun.”
🧵 7/7
Jake McNiece made four combat jumps in the Second World War. Normandy, Holland, Bastogne, and a final jump on February 13 1945 near the German town of Prüm to guide in a resupply drop. Almost no American paratrooper matched that.
He fought through some of the hardest battles in the European war, led men through all of it, and ended the war as an acting first sergeant, even though his record of discipline problems meant he never held high permanent rank.
After the war he went home to Oklahoma and worked quietly for the United States Postal Service for nearly 28 years. He died in 2013 at the age of 93, one of the last surviving members of the Filthy Thirteen.
In 1967 a film called The Dirty Dozen filled cinemas with a story of misfit soldiers sent on an impossible mission. The men of the Filthy Thirteen were part of the inspiration for it. But the real squad were not convicts. They were filthy, undisciplined, hard-drinking paratroopers who happened to be some of the bravest men in the 101st Airborne.
The next time you see that photograph of the men in war paint, you will know who they were.
This was the story of the Filthy Thirteen.
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@kershaw_alex@WWIIMemorial My Dad landed in Ste Mere Eglise with the 82nd. He brought a parachute back so his girlfriend could make a wedding dress. My mother’s dress is now on display in the 82nd Airborne Museum at Ft. Bragg. AATW!
Yet another British actor, Eddie Webber, has spoken out about the death of Henry Nowak.
"This Starmer and his band of inverted racists need to be hoisted out."
Eddie co-starred along side Geoff Bell in the British film 'The Business' and starred in the reboot of 'The Firm'.
I truly do not care if Christopher Nolan makes The Odyssey with an all Chinese cast, Muppets, or done as a musical. You want the actual reading of the poem in the ancient language cast how you want it? Go make it. (where was all this crazy outrage with the porn version of the Odyssey?) I digress.
It does not affect the art that I want create. Including my own version of the Odyssey should I choose. It does not affect my family.
It does not affect my faith.
It does not collapse Western civilization.
And UFO discourse minus actual scientists but prominently featuring everyone who’s selling a book or a documentary? Let’s say we’re all slaves to an alien race.
Okay. Fantastic. What’s the game plan, exactly? Throw a flip-flop at the mothership? It doesn’t affect me, my faith or my family.
You know what actually affects people?
Corrupt politicians getting rich while entire cities decay.
Billionaires trafficking children.
Corporations poisoning people and buying legislation.
But those conversations require courage. The actions that follow to affect change require even more courage. Arguing about movies and aliens just requires Wi-Fi or cell signal.
Zero courage. Fuck you all. You deserve the fire burning America to the ground.
#ufo #uap #disclosure #odyssey #nolan
@JeremyCorbell@WhiteHouse Gotta be kidding me! You’re profiteering off this BS and acting like you figured out Trump is trolling all you loonies. Which he is… the real alien threat has been here for a long time and they’re draining our public resources!
Super Sky Point to Bob Horner. He was the NL Rookie of the Year and an All-Star but if you were around back then you know he was more than that. Much more. He was a fixture in the homes of millions of us through the miracle of cable television during those epic childhood summers that seemed like they’d never end.
I was a fan for over 40 years but had never met Bob until I interviewed him last December about Dale Murphy’s Hall of Fame case. As you’d expect, Bob was a fierce advocate for his fellow Fulton County basher. How could he not be? They were Murph and Horner. Horner and Murph. The Hall and Oates of the Launching Pad.
You know, these sky points all suck to write but this one hurts more than most. The four-homer game, the bad perm, Chief Noc-A-Homa waiting by his teepee for another Horner long ball. I have tweeted a lot about Bob Horner through the years and it’s because he represents to me, and I suspect many of you too, something far bigger than baseball: WTBS coming out of the magic box on top of my 400-pound Zenith, cool air coming through my bedroom window after another afternoon of Wiffle Ball, and Rick Mahler (probably) toeing the rubber at about 7:05 while hoping to keep the Braves in it with smoke and mirrors long enough for Horner and Murph to do some damage. And me sprawled out on green and yellow shag carpet in Kentucky paying 100 times more attention to Skip Caray, Ernie Johnson, and Pete Van Wieren than any of my teachers.
Farewell, you sweet slugging bastard. Tell St. Peter you brought your glove for the hot corner and to write you into the cleanup spot. #RIP